


Buckingham & Shaftesbury: The Schemes and the Theatrics

by rusty_armour



Category: Charles II: The Power and the Passion
Genre: April Showers 2015, Historical, Humor, M/M, Parody, Sheep
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-04
Updated: 2015-04-04
Packaged: 2018-03-21 03:51:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3676344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rusty_armour/pseuds/rusty_armour
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Buckingham and Shaftesbury attempt another grand scheme with surprising and unexpected results.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Buckingham & Shaftesbury: The Schemes and the Theatrics

**Author's Note:**

> This fic came about for one simple reason: [grassle](http://archiveofourown.org/users/grassle/pseuds/grassle) asked me to write a parody of [Charles II: The Power and the Passion](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Charles_II:_The_Power_and_the_Passion). I was initially going to say no because I wasn’t even sure where I’d begin. Then the Restoration!parody muse magically appeared and I was helpless to resist her. *g* For those of you who may not be familiar with Charles II: The Power and the Passion, there’s a strong _Sherlock_ connection as Rupert Graves plays Buckingham and Martin Freeman plays Shaftesbury.
> 
> © 2011

 

 

 

“This is a fine place you’ve dragged me to, Shaftesbury. I never saw such a nest of…Well, a nest at all, really.” George Villiers, Duke of Buckingham, was staring at a mass of twigs that was perched precariously on a branch at eye level. He extended a hand, poking it curiously. “That’s what it is, isn’t it? A nest?”

Anthony Ashley Cooper, Earl of Shaftesbury, had summoned Buckingham to a tree house on Helmsley Estate for their latest meeting. Although Buckingham had left Whitehall, the two men had kept in touch, or, rather, Shaftesbury had kept in touch. He wasn’t entirely sure why Buckingham kept agreeing to meet him, though he suspected it might have been due to sheer boredom alone. Shaftesbury knew that he himself was struggling to find a reason to live now that Parliament had been dissolved and there seemed no hope for Exclusion.

“Have you never climbed a tree before?” Shaftesbury asked.

Buckingham’s forehead creased and he looked genuinely puzzled. “Why would I do that?”

“I don’t know,” Shaftesbury said. “To pick an apple? Retrieve a kite?”

Buckingham sniffed haughtily. “No, that’s what servants are for.” Nevertheless, he studied his surroundings with a degree of interest that belied his disdain. “I didn’t even know there was a tree house on my estate.”

Shaftesbury couldn’t quite conceal his amusement. “You really did spend twenty years in Whitehall.”

Buckingham grimaced in response before his gaze shifted to Shaftesbury’s walking-stick, and his eyes widened in surprise. “Shaftesbury, how on earth did you get up here?”

Shaftesbury smiled enigmatically, but said nothing.

It had become a game for them. Shaftesbury had come up with increasingly bizarre locations for each meeting. Last time, they had met in one of the bell towers of Westminster Abbey. The time before that, it had been the privy in the Royal Observatory. This time, Shaftesbury had chosen a spot on Buckingham’s own estate, even though it had meant travelling a great distance. However, he didn’t feel this meeting could wait until the next time Buckingham was in London – not after what he had discovered.

Met by silence, Buckingham studied Shaftesbury closely. “So why _have_ you brought me here?” he asked. “If this is yet another attempt to convince me to join a small political group of like-minded men seeking to cast off the shackles of an oppressive monarchy, I’ll remind you, once again, that the accommodation at the Tower leaves a bit to be desired.” Buckingham shuddered as he remembered the times he’d been a guest. “Of course, any influence I had over the king has been destroyed. I should know because I’m the one who destroyed it.”

Shaftesbury frowned. “Considering what you’ve just told me, I’m surprised you agreed to this meeting.”

Buckingham grinned. “Curiosity: it’s always been my greatest weakness.”

“I would have thought your greatest weakness would be greed or debauchery,” Shaftesbury said before he could stop himself.

Buckingham’s grin grew even wider. “Yes, those too.”

Shaftesbury leaned forward, looking Buckingham directly in the eye. “I’m not here for my own personal interests, but yours, Buckingham.”

Buckingham raised an inquisitive eyebrow. “Oh?”

“I know about the enterprise you’ve embarked on with your cousin,” Shaftesbury said.

“Enterprise?” Buckingham’s tone was innocent, and his grin had been replaced by an impassive expression. He obviously wasn’t willing to give anything away. His ploy might have worked if they were dealing with a bit of court gossip, but Shaftesbury had it on the best authority – a servant he had paid to spy on Lady Castlemaine – that what he’d heard was absolutely true.

Keeping his eyes locked firmly on Buckingham, Shaftesbury struck. “You and your cousin are forming a theatre company that will tour throughout Europe. I believe your intention is to gain entrance into a royal court and attract the attention of some great and powerful king.” Shaftesbury’s lips twitched. “If I’m not mistaken, you concocted a similar scheme with Nell Gwyn – one that ultimately worked, but to Nell Gwyn’s advantage, not yours.”

Buckingham glared at Shaftesbury. “How much?”

Shaftesbury stared at Buckingham for an instant in confusion before he understood. “We’re speaking at cross-purposes, Buckingham. I’m not here to blackmail you. I want to _help_ you.”

Buckingham’s eyes narrowed. “And why should you wish to do that?”

Shaftesbury knew he would have to tread cautiously. If he was too guarded, he would rouse Buckingham’s suspicions and, yet, the same could be said for speaking too openly as well. He would have to find some middle ground.

Although the branches of the oak were still mostly bare, Shaftesbury examined the buds forming on one limb as if he didn’t have a care in the world. “I will confess that my motives aren’t completely selfless,” he said. “I have plans of my own, and a powerful ally beyond England’s shores could prove extremely useful.” He dared to cast a glance at Buckingham, who seemed to be carefully considering what he’d just heard. That wasn’t good. Shaftesbury would need to distract him. “I’m surprised you’re undertaking such a project. I thought you wanted to spend your remaining days with your wife.”

“My wife has diversions of her own and, so, I find I need to fill some extra hours,” Buckingham said. “The whole day can’t be taken up by sex, gambling, and embroidery.”

Shaftesbury’s eyebrows shot up. “I’m sorry. Did you just say ‘embroidery’? _Embroidery_?”

“We were in exile for several years, Shaftesbury. What servants we possessed didn’t have time for sewing as they were needed for other duties, such as picking apples and retrieving kites from trees. Besides, even if there had been servants to spare, I wouldn’t trust them with such an important task.” Buckingham lifted his arm, displaying the sleeve of his justacorps. “See this chain stitching on the cuff? I did that.”

Shaftesbury regarded the embroidery in question and fought to hold back a sneer. With his Cavalier fashions, Buckingham always dressed far too much like a Catholic for Shaftesbury’s liking – a fact that was all too apparent when Shaftesbury glanced down at his own unadorned sleeve of black wool. When he looked up again, it was to find Buckingham watching him, a smile playing on his lips.

“I’ve offended your religious sensibilities again, haven’t I?” Buckingham said.

Shaftesbury shook his head quickly. “No, no, of course not. I care not a whit how you dress. A man should be judged by his actions, not his appearance.”

Buckingham didn’t look convinced. “Do you have any knowledge of the theatre, Shaftesbury?” he asked. “You certainly lie as prettily as any actor I’ve ever seen.”

Shaftesbury bowed slightly, acknowledging the compliment. “Any skills I possess in that area are due entirely to the years I spent in the House of Lords.”

Buckingham was positively smirking now. “Then I would say that you’re more than qualified – perhaps even _over_ -qualified – to aid us in this venture,” he said. “We’re holding our first rehearsal at Nonsuch tomorrow. You’re welcome to attend.”

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

 

On his arrival at Nonsuch Palace, Shaftesbury was directed to a rather spacious room that appeared to be a library, only it had been stripped of its books and was filled with a much greater degree of noise than any library he’d ever known. Shaftesbury heard hammers striking nails before he saw the wooden structure that was being erected on the other side of the room. The only thing louder than the hammering was the numerous voices – all of which seemed to belong to children. On closer inspection, Shaftesbury spotted almost two dozen children. The youngest ones were ferrying supplies back and forth, while the rest were engaged in actual construction. Shaftesbury gaped in amazement at the sight laid out before him. Then there was a dainty hand on his shoulder, and the strong scent of perfume wafted into his nostrils. Naturally, Shaftesbury assumed it was Buckingham, but, then, a decidedly female voice was addressing him.

“Now the little bastards are no longer in line for the throne, I have to find _some_ use for them.”

Shaftesbury spun around, nearly dropping his walking-stick as he came face to face with Barbara Villiers. Managing not to wince, he bowed to his hostess. “Lady Castlemaine.”

“Lord Shaftesbury.” Castlemaine curtsied deeply, and her face was serene and composed. All the same, Shaftesbury could see the mischief dancing in those dark eyes. Then, as Castlemaine rose from her curtsy, those same eyes narrowed and she shouted at the children engaged in carpentry. “Cease hammering this instant! You’re meant to be building a stage, not a barge!” Shaking her head, Castlemaine strode across the library and ripped a hammer out of one child’s hand.

Buckingham appeared at Shaftesbury’s side a moment later, watching in amusement as Castlemaine began to pull the wooden structure apart. “We don’t actually need a stage, but it keeps my cousin and her bastards out of the way.”

Shaftesbury felt a wave of panic wash over him. “They aren’t _all_ hers, are they?”

Buckingham laughed. “Good Lord, no. Only the oldest two are part of her brood. The rest belong to the king’s other mistresses.”

“If only two are Lady Castlemaine’s children then what are the rest of them doing here?” Shaftesbury asked. “Shouldn’t they be at Whitehall?”

Buckingham shrugged. “Castlemaine must have smuggled them out of court,” he said. “She has a number of gambling debts. Perhaps she plans to hold them for ransom.”

Shaftesbury smiled. “You jest, surely.”

“It would hardly be the first time she’s used such a ploy,” Buckingham muttered. Then, raising his voice, he called out to Castlemaine. “Cousin, we’re about to begin the rehearsal, and your little workers are terribly underfoot. Couldn’t they play in the garden?”

“But, darling, I’ve sent the actors to the garden,” Castlemaine said. “It’s such a lovely day, and it seemed a shame for them to waste away indoors.”

Buckingham sighed. “Oh, very well.” He was about to make his way outside when he found his movement impeded by a little girl. She couldn’t have been more than four or five, but she was wrapped tightly around Buckingham’s legs. Buckingham stared down at the child in confusion. “Umm…hello.”

The little girl gazed up at Buckingham with big brown eyes. “Father!”

“Oh,” Buckingham said. “Am I?”

The little girl nodded solemnly.

Buckingham cast a nervous glance in his cousin’s direction. “But Lady Castlemaine isn’t your mother, is she?”

The little girl giggled and shook her head.

“Well, thank Christ for that!” Buckingham smiled down at the little girl fondly and patted her dark head. “Join the others now, sweetheart.”

“Yes, Father.” The little girl took off, her curls bouncing as she ran.

Buckingham took Shaftesbury’s arm and guided him from the room. “Come on. Let’s go before more of my progeny surface.”

As they headed down a long corridor, Shaftesbury noticed several bare spots on the walls where paintings had once hung. He wondered if this theatre scheme could possibly be successful enough to allow Castlemaine to pay off all her debts.

“You never told me what play you’ll be performing,” Shaftesbury said.

Buckingham blushed slightly – a rare occurrence for him. “I’ve chosen _The Rehearsal_ as I have some familiarity with the play.”

Shaftesbury almost laughed aloud. _Some_ familiarity? It was rumoured that Buckingham and a couple of his friends had written the bloody thing, though it had been published anonymously. If Shaftesbury hadn’t believed the rumours then, he certainly believed them now. However, he was careful to keep his expression neutral. “The play is rather ambitious for this theatre company’s first production, is it not? It’s a play within a play – and satire, at that.”

“I have complete faith in all my players, save one,” Buckingham said. They had reached the garden and were approaching a motley group of people that could only be actors. When Shaftesbury inquired which member of the company had earned Buckingham’s displeasure, Buckingham pointed at a young man in a deep purple cloak trimmed with ermine.

Even at a distance, Shaftesbury could recognize the most pompous and empty-headed fool he had ever had the misfortune to meet. It was the upward tilt of his chin, and the arrogant stance announcing that he might not be next in line for the throne but was still jolly well entitled to be king, that gave him away. Shaftesbury seized Buckingham by one of his highly embroidered sleeves and pulled him behind a large topiary.

“Have you gone completely and utterly mad?” Shaftesbury shouted. “That’s Monmouth!”

“Keep your voice down,” Buckingham hissed. “The others don’t know.”

Shaftesbury nearly shook with the effort to contain his hysteria. “Unless they’re all as stupid as Monmouth, I think you’ll find that they’ve worked it out by now!” Shaftesbury ran a hand across his face and groaned. “I thought you were the one who didn’t want to be sent to the Tower and, yet, you seem determined to get us all killed!”

Buckingham clamped a hand over Shaftesbury’s mouth and leaned closer. “Look, Shaftesbury, I don’t want him here anymore than you do, but Castlemaine insisted.”

Shaftesbury yanked Buckingham’s hand away, though he finally obeyed Buckingham’s request and lowered his voice. “He shouldn’t even be in the country. Why didn’t that idiot flee while he still had the chance? If he’s caught at Nonsuch, we could all be charged with treason.”

“Then we’ll just have to make sure he isn’t found here,” Buckingham said. “We’ll be leaving for the Continent soon. We’ll just keep him hidden until then.” He patted Shaftesbury on the shoulder. “You worry too much.”

Shaftesbury grimaced. “And you don’t worry nearly enough.” He trailed behind Buckingham as they returned to the path. “I’m almost afraid to ask, but what part will Monmouth be playing?”

Buckingham grinned, his teeth flashing. “Prince Pretty-man.”

Shaftesbury rolled his eyes. “Oh, most appropriate.”

Buckingham inclined his head graciously. “I thought so.”

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

 

“I no longer wish to play Prince Pretty-man,” Monmouth said.

Buckingham exchanged a surprised glance with Shaftesbury. “Why not?” he asked.

Monmouth’s chin jutted out proudly. “Because I want to be king.”

Buckingham’s brow furrowed. “You wish to be one of the two Kings of Brentford?”

Monmouth looked even more confused. “There are two kings?”

Buckingham took a deep breath and nodded. “Yes, they enter the stage, hand in hand, in Act II, Scene II.”

Monmouth shook his head. “No, that won’t do. I refuse to share the throne with anyone.”

“Well, you’re going to have to because there are _two_ Kings of Brentford,” Buckingham said.

Monmouth crossed his arms and scowled. “There could never be two kings in England. The notion is ridiculous.”

Buckingham gritted his teeth. “It’s supposed to be ridiculous: it’s comedy.”

“Well, I don’t find two kings funny,” Monmouth said. “You should rewrite the play.”

Buckingham eyed Monmouth coldly. “Look, you conceited little whelp, the only way you’ll be king is if you multiply by two because I’m _not_ rewriting the play.”

“Trouble, darling?” Castlemaine asked. Buckingham had been so focused on the argument that he hadn’t realized his cousin had crept up on him.

“He believes there should only be _one_ King of Brentford,” Buckingham said, jerking his head at Monmouth.

Castlemaine frowned. “But if there was only one king, you’d have to rewrite the play.”

Buckingham sighed. “I’m well aware of that, Cousin.”

“Well, couldn’t he simply play both kings?” Castlemaine asked.

Buckingham closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “The two kings appear on stage together. He would have to play both parts simultaneously, which, as it so happens, is physically impossible.”

Castlemaine reached up to grasp Buckingham by the shoulders. “No, nothing’s impossible for him, Cousin. He has royalty in him.”

“Who doesn’t?” Buckingham muttered. Then, aloud, he said, “I think I have the answer.” His eyes darted around the various players. “Would any of you happen to have a sword I might use to slice this man in half?”

Castlemaine placed a hand on Buckingham’s chest. “Peace, darling.”

Buckingham nodded vigorously. “Yes, Cousin. There should be two.”

“You insult me, sir!” Monmouth cried.

Buckingham smiled, but it wasn’t a friendly gesture. “No, if I were truly insulting you, I’d say you were a brainless posturing peacock with severe delusions of power, incapable of producing any intelligible speech, save the sounds that issue from your posterior.”

Monmouth howled and stamped his feet furiously. “I don’t understand what you just said, but I’m deeply offended!”

“There, there, darling, it’s all right.” Castlemaine enveloped Monmouth in her arms and glared at Buckingham. “You must apologize, George.”

Buckingham bit his lip and actually looked remorseful. “You’re right, Cousin. I should have suggested slicing him into quarters, so that he could play the two usurpers as well.” Buckingham tilted his head thoughtfully. “Actually, now that I consider the matter, I should have cast him as the usurpers from the beginning. The roles seem fitting somehow.”

Monmouth lifted his head from Castlemaine’s bosom and, snarling, launched himself at Buckingham. An instant later, he was lying on the lawn, unconscious, and Buckingham was rubbing the knuckles of his right hand.

Shaftesbury stared down at the supine figure on the grass, torn between the need to laugh and the desire to finish what Buckingham had started. “Perhaps we should adjourn briefly from the rehearsal of, um, _The Rehearsal_.”

Castlemaine shot Shaftesbury a look of gratitude. “Yes, some of the king’s men arrived to collect the children, so you’re all welcome to return to the library.”

The players didn’t hesitate to accept Castlemaine’s invitation and filed quickly out of the garden. Shaftesbury was about to do likewise when a hand clamped down on his wrist.

“Stay,” Buckingham said. His grip on Shaftesbury’s wrist tightened as Castlemaine moved towards him. “I’ll no longer tolerate him, Cousin. He has to go.” Buckingham nudged Monmouth experimentally with his foot. “I’ll pay his passage across the Channel. I think Antwerp would be the best place for him.”

Castlemaine stood with her hands on her hips. “You hate Antwerp, Cousin.”

Buckingham made no attempt to hide his amusement. “Yes, intensely.”

“I see.” Castlemaine’s face crumpled and her eyes flooded with tears. “I have sacrificed everything for you and when I ask you this one tiny thing in return – ”

“You’ve sacrificed a room, Cousin. As for this one tiny thing, I’d say Monmouth is at least ten stone.” Buckingham rolled his eyes as Castlemaine started sobbing. “Oh, please, darling. I’m not Charlie: a woman’s tears won’t move me.”

Castlemaine stopped crying abruptly and smiled in a predatory fashion. Then she sank to her knees and tried to get to Buckingham’s breeches through several layers of clothing. Buckingham backed away and cleared his throat. “Ah, yes. Perhaps we could continue this discussion later – in private.”

Castlemaine pouted. “Oh, come now, Cousin. It’s only Shaftesbury. I’m certain that, as a politician, he has witnessed many a heated debate before. Why, I wouldn’t be surprised if he had partaken in a few.”

Buckingham stepped back even further. “I should see to the players in case they manage to find what few valuables you still have left.” He turned to Shaftesbury. “Are you coming?”

“Yes, of course.” Shaftesbury was about to follow Buckingham when he felt Castlemaine’s hand on his forearm.

“Might I have a word with you, Lord Shaftesbury?” Castlemaine asked.

Shaftesbury felt a chill go down his spine. “I’m afraid I’m not a very good conversationalist, Lady Castlemaine.”

“Oh, I very much doubt that.” Castlemaine ran a finger along the silver head of Shaftesbury’s walking-stick. “I should have left the persuasion to you as I believe your tongue is much more agile than mine.” Shaftesbury blushed and was stammering out a protest when Castlemaine said, “He wants you, and you want him. The solution seems simple enough.”

Shaftesbury pulled his walking-stick out of Castlemaine’s reach angrily. “I’m a politician, so I’m well accustomed to hearing slander spoken about me, but I won’t stand by and listen to such malicious lies spread about the Duke of Buckingham – and by his own cousin, no less!”

Castlemaine frowned and batted her eyelashes in an innocent, yet, highly provocative, fashion. “I speak only the truth, my lord,” she said. “You must have heard the rumours about George’s father and the king’s father – only they weren’t rumours: the two really were lovers.”

Shaftesbury shifted uncomfortably. “Just because the Duke of Buckingham’s father was a sodomite doesn’t mean that Buckingham suffers from the same affliction himself.” He shook his head and laughed. “Good God, he practically beds every beautiful woman he can.”

Castlemaine nodded. “And a goodly share of beautiful men as well.”

Shaftesbury found himself leaning more heavily on his walking-stick. “But Buckingham told me that he wished to return home to his wife. Surely, that indicates his preference for women.”

Castlemaine shrugged. “Perhaps. However, when George returned to Helmsley, it was to find his wife in bed with another man.”

Shaftesbury’s jaw dropped. “But that’s terrible!”

Castlemaine smiled at Shaftesbury in what might have been sympathy. “No, darling, it wasn’t so terrible. They had only just started, so George still had time to join in.”

Shaftesbury shut his eyes tightly, trying to banish the image, but it had been branded into his mind. “Why are you telling me this? What could you possibly hope to accomplish?”

“I only wish for my cousin’s happiness, and I think you could make him very happy, indeed.” Castlemaine’s lips curled lasciviously, and she laid a hand on the fist clenching the walking-stick. “Allow me to counsel you, darling. I’m _extremely_ close to my cousin and I know exactly what course you must take.”

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

 

It was over three hours before Shaftesbury was able to get Buckingham alone – and that was only because the husband of Buckingham’s latest conquest had arrived at Nonsuch demanding satisfaction. Castlemaine provided it for him, while Buckingham went to hide in the priest’s hole. As Shaftesbury had made a meticulous record of every priest’s hole in the country, he had no trouble tracking down Buckingham. Hunched miserably beside Buckingham in the squalid little room, Shaftesbury remembered Castlemaine’s instructions. Trying to ignore his rapidly beating heart, he took a deep breath and began.

“Monmouth is a fool for thinking that a single syllable of _The Rehearsal_ should be changed,” Shaftesbury said. “It is exquisite and masterful in its execution, yet the humour is subtle and inventive. In fact, I do believe that it is the most brilliant satire I’ve ever – ”

Shaftesbury’s words were cut short as Buckingham grabbed a fistful of his shirt, crushing their lips together.

 _Well_ , Shaftesbury thought, as Buckingham’s tongue dived into his mouth, _that was much easier than I expected_.

It was only when Shaftesbury started to see dark spots before his eyes that Buckingham pulled away. “If you wanted to take me to your bed, Shaftesbury, you should have just said so.” Buckingham tugged on Shaftesbury’s shirt again, drawing him to his feet. Then he was dragging Shaftesbury from the priest’s hole, and they were hunting for a bedchamber. When they found one, Buckingham shoved Shaftesbury down on the bed and began stripping off his clothes, kissing, licking and nipping various patches of skin as they emerged.

By the time he was completely naked, Shaftesbury was hard and panting and ready to grant Buckingham anything he desired. Unfortunately, at that moment, Buckingham seemed content to sit on the bed, fully clothed, and stare down at him. It was making Shaftesbury uncomfortable.

“I realize that this infirm body of mine isn’t what you’re accustomed to, Buckingham, but – ”

Buckingham pressed a finger to Shaftesbury’s lips and shook his head. “It’s not that, love. I’m simply drinking you in, memorizing every inch of you.”

Shaftesbury blushed. “Well, could you possibly do that while removing your clothes?”

Buckingham snorted. “If you wish.” He took his time with the task, teasing Shaftesbury, who was almost ready to have a fit by the time Buckingham’s wig landed on the pile of clothing that had accumulated on the floor. Then Buckingham’s head was between Shaftesbury’s legs, and Shaftesbury moaned as Buckingham engulfed his member.

“Jesus, God, Beelzebub!” Shaftesbury gasped as Buckingham ran his tongue along the underside of his cock and sucked greedily on the head. He squirmed and thrashed as Buckingham took him deeper and deeper into his mouth. Shaftesbury was sure he couldn’t last much longer and was about to warn Buckingham when the devil tore his mouth away and crawled up Shaftesbury’s flushed and trembling body.

“Please,” Shaftesbury said. “You-you can’t leave me like this.”

Buckingham smirked. “I wanted to see your face as you begged me to finish the deed, Shaftesbury.” He raised Shaftesbury’s left hand to his mouth and lapped at the fingertips. That was when Shaftesbury’s whole body tensed, his hips jerked, and he cried out, spilling his seed.

Buckingham gawked at Shaftesbury, his eyes wide and his mouth hanging open. “That-that’s never happened before.”

Despite the haze that had settled in his brain, Shaftesbury knew he should probably be feeling some shame over his premature release. “I’m sorry, Buckingham. I didn’t mean to – ”

Buckingham caught Shaftesbury’s lips in a searing kiss that left Shaftesbury breathless. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything so erotic in my life,” Buckingham said.

Shaftesbury blinked at Buckingham in astonishment. “Really?”

In response, Buckingham rolled Shaftesbury on to his stomach.

“Buckingham, what are you doing?” Shaftesbury asked. He was both nervous and excited by the way Buckingham was manhandling him. He couldn’t help shivering when Buckingham began to scatter a trail of kisses down his spine. Then his back arched and he shouted as Buckingham’s tongue left a wet trail between the crack of his buttocks before plunging into his anus. Shaftesbury tried to rise from the bed, but Buckingham had him pinned to the mattress.

“No, no, no! This is wrong! It’s sodomy! It’s a sin!” Shaftesbury kept struggling, though he could feel his resistance crumbling with every delicious tingle Buckingham was producing.

Buckingham removed his tongue, though he didn’t relinquish his hold on Shaftesbury. “This isn’t sodomy. I’m still working towards that.”

Shaftesbury shivered again, though he wasn’t sure if it was in fear or anticipation. “Look, I know what they say about you and any available orifice, but – ”

“It was just the one time, I swear,” Buckingham said.

“ _What_?” Shaftesbury twisted his head sharply, trying to catch a glimpse of Buckingham over his shoulder.

Buckingham sighed. “It was in Antwerp during the king’s exile.”

Shaftesbury was confused, but he decided to play along. “Because you couldn’t afford a brothel?”

“What?” Buckingham said. “No! No, I got lost on the way to the brothel. I was drunk, you see, and it was very dark and cold.”

Shaftesbury breathed in sharply – not because of what Buckingham had said, but because Buckingham had inserted a wet finger in his bum.

“Did I mention it was cold?” Buckingham asked. “I was all alone without anywhere to take shelter. Then I found a sheep pen and a nice woolly body to keep me warm. And I obviously needed to fornicate with something if I was going to get any sleep that night.”

Shaftesbury turned his head again in disbelief. “So, you fornicated with a sheep?”

“Well, actually, I’m not absolutely certain about that as it was so dark,” Buckingham said. “It could have been a Scotsman for all I know.”

“In Antwerp?” Shaftesbury exclaimed. Then he bit down on his lip as Buckingham added a second finger.

Buckingham planted a kiss in the small of Shaftesbury’s back. “Whatever it was had disappeared by morning.”

“You probably frightened the poor sheep so much that it broke out of its pen and ran away!” Shaftesbury said.

Buckingham slapped Shaftesbury on his backside. “Did I mention I was drunk and lost and it was – ?”

“Yes, yes, all right.” And it was all right as far as Shaftesbury was concerned because those two fingers were carrying out a rather thorough exploration of his anal passage. “As you pointed out, you were in exile at the time, and it all happened a long time ago.”

“And last week,” Buckingham said.

“ _What_? OH!” Shaftesbury whimpered as the fingers nudged against his prostate. He didn’t think he’d be able to come again so soon, but it didn’t mean that he couldn’t experience the sparks of pleasure that Buckingham was eliciting from his body.

Buckingham was nuzzling the nape of Shaftesbury’s neck, his breath rapid and uneven. “God, you’re so beautiful stretched out like this, Shaftesbury. I can’t bear it any longer. I have to take you.”

“Then take me,” Shaftesbury whispered. He felt Buckingham rip out his fingers then almost choked on a sob as Buckingham’s steely length drove into him.

“Shh,” Buckingham said. “I know it hurts, love, but the pain will pass.”

Unable to speak, Shaftesbury simply nodded.

The intense burning did eventually subside, though Shaftesbury still wasn’t comfortable with the intrusion. However, he could feel Buckingham shaking under the strain to keep still. Shaftesbury pushed back against Buckingham in encouragement. “Baaa.”

Buckingham grunted in relief and began thrusting. He tried to be gentle at first, but quickly succumbed to his body’s needs and pounded into Shaftesbury again and again. When he reached his climax, he let loose a yell and slumped heavily on Shaftesbury.

“So,” Shaftesbury said, “I was thinking we should meet again next week.”

“Next week be damned,” Buckingham growled. “We’ll be meeting again tomorrow.”

 

 

 

_The theatre company soon fell apart due to artistic differences and a botched duel between Buckingham and Monmouth in which neither man succeeded in killing the other. Buckingham and Shaftesbury continued to meet frequently in various bedchambers throughout England until Shaftesbury was arrested on suspicion of high treason and sent to the Tower of London. The affair might have ended there if Buckingham hadn’t found a way to continue their meetings by bribing one of the Tower guards. Whenever Buckingham did pay Shaftesbury a visit, he gave him hand-embroidered gifts, such as handkerchiefs, samplers and cushion covers, many of which featured an ovine motif. On one particularly memorable occasion, Buckingham even brought a sheep._


End file.
